


marigold.

by cloverseoks



Series: bouquet. [1]
Category: VIXX, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Everything is soft, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Pining, Weddings, basically a whole lot of sweet fluff and some smut at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 11:57:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10718898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverseoks/pseuds/cloverseoks
Summary: Two months are a long time when it comes to just about anything. Planning a wedding, however, needs a lot more time than this.In which Namjoon is getting married, Jimin signs them up for ballroom dancing lessons and accidentally falls for their dance instructor in the process.





	marigold.

**Author's Note:**

> sort of inspired by signifying_nothing's vixx/bts crossovers, not gonna lie. 
> 
> i love both groups to death, what can i say. join me in crossover hell, it's nice here.

Two months are a long time when it comes to just about anything. Planning a wedding, however, needs a lot more time than this.

Jimin has half a mind to talk Namjoon out of it when he first announces the due date. Two months from now, a spring wedding in small scale, somewhere in Ilsan -- or maybe Jeju, or somewhere entirely else if neither works. It’s the beginning of a plan, nothing solid, and that alone is enough to sound at least five alarms in Jimin’s head. If the expressions on their friends’ faces, ranging from exasperated to utterly helpless to wondering what they did to deserve any of this is anything to go by, they share that sentiment. Nobody’s surprised when Namjoon confesses that he has no idea what he’s doing but still wants to be an active part in this wedding-planning process.

“So you just,” says Hoseok, despair written all over his face. As Namjoon’s roommate, he’s been through the motions with him, all the way from the first meeting to the engagement. It doesn’t make him obliged to help in any way, but Hoseok isn’t the sort of person to leave his friends hanging. Not even when the situation at hand is ridiculous and nigh impossible to salvage. “You just went and told her you’d take care of this?”

Namjoon shrugs, somewhat dejected like he already knows he bit off a bit more than he can chew. “She’s got enough trouble finding a dress and convincing her family to not rope her into some opulent, gigantic celebration instead of what we actually want.” He reaches into his pocket, whips his phone out and occupies himself with swiping at the screen for a couple of moments. “Besides, Yonghwa made an effort to look up a bunch of stuff in advance so I don’t have to. The least I can do is be the one in charge of picking and meeting up with all these people to tell them how we picture everything. Here.”

He slides the phone over the table and immediately, six bodies lean in to peek at it.

Knowing Yonghwa, she must have sensed beforehand that making the entire matter as easy as possible for Namjoon is a smart idea. He’s been stressed for months already, first fussing over finding the perfect ring and after, trying to come up with something out of the ordinary to make his proposal memorable. Jimin can only guess how much more organizing his wedding is stressing Namjoon out right now, even though he tries his best to keep a straight face. That slight tremble to his hands is hard to overlook.

Jimin scans the list displayed on screen, a row of neat bullet points that looks like it leaves close to no room for errors. There are names and curt descriptions,  telephone numbers and appointment dates (which he assumes Namjoon has added), some in brackets, some marked with asterisks. Jimin scrolls to the bottom of the list with the pad of his pointer finger until he reaches the explanation he hoped to find. “Priority,” it says, tacked onto another asterisk. Next to him, Yoongi groans.

“Let me guess. You want us to help.”

Namjoon ducks his head with a meek, “Yes, please.” He doesn’t ask for help very often, but when he does, it’s because of something so heavy and important that he can’t handle it on his own. Most of the time, he’s independent, doing his own thing, strong-willed and stubborn. Jimin admires it, the bite and ambition while staying true to himself no matter what. Right now, Namjoon needs his friends because planning a wedding requires more than this. There are certain things a single person simply can’t shoulder at once.

Leaning back in his chair, Seokjin flashes a smirk that oozes smugness. “I call dibs on checking out everything food-related.”

“I wanna join you!” pipes up Jeongguk, doe-eyes regarding Seokjin with the most adoring look. Not missing a beat, Seokjin reaches out to ruffle through Jeongguk’s hair, fond.

“What would I do without my sidekick?”

Namjoon clears his throat, drawing the attention back towards himself. “I, uh, would’ve suggested that, anyway. So… thank you for volunteering. It means a lot.” He smiles, dimples on full display and radiating gratitude. Seokjin nods, and that is that.

They decide, after squabbling and complaining and buttering up to Yoongi (who’s only playing hard to get, though nobody calls him out on it as per usual), that Hoseok, Jimin, Seokjin and Taehyung check out the florists on the list while Yoongi, Jeongguk and Namjoon take a look at the potential musical acts. All in all, it sounds like something they’ll be able to handle.

“Now, about the location… “

Taehyung interrupts Namjoon before he has the slightest chance to finish. “Why don’t you just hire a wedding planner, though?”

The question is justified. Wedding planners are convenient, a true godsend. They take care of everything, from the location to the catering to the perfect cake, everything carefully and meticulously hand-picked and tailored to the soon-to-be-wedded couple’s wishes. They’re expensive, but what’s worth all that money more than a perfect wedding? Jimin smiles, if wryly, at the thought, at how much emphasis everyone always puts on getting married. How it’s supposed to be the best day in your life. Seeing Namjoon so close to it makes his heart melt a little, though he’d be hard-pressed to admit it out loud.

“We decided not to,” Namjoon explains, raking a hand through his perfectly coiffed, bleach blond hair. “We want this to be personal, you know? Not the easy way out. There’s no other option for us than taking matters into our own hands.”

A series of low hums follows Namjoon’s words, paired with Yoongi patting him idly on the shoulder. It’s approval more than just understanding, the sentiment shared and agreed on in unison. Jimin still thinks getting more help would have been nice, but they’ve been through worse things before. Organizing a wedding is a feat they’ll somehow wrestle into submission, too.

  
  
  


One and a half months before the wedding, Jimin signs himself and Namjoon up for a curt course in ballroom dancing.

It goes as well as expected, a little nerve-wracking and a lot awkward but fun. Namjoon isn’t the most terrible dancer Jimin has ever seen (and he’s seen many at the studio he works at with Hoseok, ambitious and overeager people who consider themselves the next big thing only to fail at even easy choreographies). He’s got a good sense of rhythm, goes about dancing more methodically than with emotion which works in his favor most of the time, but he also has a habit of forgetting that his limbs are long and uncoordinated. Jeongguk compared him to an overcooked spaghetti once and well, Jimin can’t say he disagrees. What he does do is put in effort, despite the numerous times he steps on Jimin’s toes or almost makes him trip. All in all, it’s not so bad. Jimin was prepared for all of that.

What he wasn’t prepared for is their dance instructor.

At their very first lesson, he greets them both with a smile that’s a little too dazzling to be real.

“Kim Namjoon-ssi and Park Jimin-ssi, yes?” he asks, approaching with quick strides and offering his hand to Jimin first. Jimin takes it, the motion a little mechanic. Nobody told him someone with a face like  _ that _ worked here. “Cha Hakyeon. I’ll be your instructor for the next couple of weeks.” Hakyeon lets go of Jimin’s hand after delivering a squeeze Jimin can’t for the life of him interpret properly. Namjoon and he shake hands, too, and that’s all for introductions.

They get straight to warming up, and in between, Hakyeon sneaks questions into their conversation, polite but warm. He asks about prior experiences, about the reason why they’re taking classes, and, much to Jimin’s relief, Namjoon takes care of the talking for the most part. It gives Jimin the best kinds of opportunities to sneak a few glances here and there. Instant attraction sure is a funny thing.

The lesson transitions to the “main course”, as Hakyeon called it with a grin. He explains the proper stance first, molding Namjoon’s body and giving an approving nod when Jimin finds his spot perfectly right after without needing any help. Hakyeon’s eyes linger for a moment, scanning Jimin from head to toe. Whether this counts as being checked out is anybody’s guess.

Far too soon, Hakyeon walks away with a hum, selecting a track with an easy, recognizable beat to get used to for now, leaving behind a snickering Namjoon and Jimin attempting to ignore the spike in his heart rate.  
  


The more he watches Hakyeon, the more he realizes that there’s a calmness about him, this certain kind of patience that makes it obvious how used he is to difficult cases. Not that Namjoon is difficult in a  _ negative _ way, but he isn’t the easiest student, either. Hakyeon handles him well, explains the steps with a thoroughness that sticks, slow and steady. Even though Jimin doesn’t need the instructions, he hangs on every syllable dripping from Hakyeon’s tongue.

It has something to do with seeing someone else’ methods of teaching, nothing else. Jimin almost convinces himself.

A few lessons in, Namjoon is slowly getting the gist of it. Posture almost perfect, he leads Jimin across the dance floor in a slow waltz, brows pinched together in concentration and lips a thin, colorless line. Jimin snickers at the display, fond for Namjoon in a way he didn’t know he could be.

“See? I told you it’s not rocket science,” he says, watching Namjoon’s face light up just a little.

“I guess I’m not doing too bad.”

The praise seems to promptly knock him out of his rhythm. He grips Jimin’s hand tighter and squeezes his shoulder blade, struggling to find his opening in the music to slide back into the correct steps, but the spell seems broken. Without much of an effort, Jimin takes over, pulls Namjoon along and back into dancing, saving the both of them from stalling.

“Sorry,” mutters Namjoon, redness sitting high on his cheekbones. Jimin laughs, but doesn’t respond.

The song comes to an end, fading out softly, and Hakyeon approaches the pair with a proud smile, hands raised to squeeze at their shoulders. “That was nice, you two! I think we can start slipping some variety into it next time we see each other. Some more dynamic, you know? You’ve got the base down well enough to build off of it.” He looks back and forth between Namjoon and Jimin, Hakyeon’s eyes lingering on Jimin a touch longer than is probably necessary for the umpteenth time. Not a reason to complain, just one observation of many. Jimin wants to chalk it up to imagination, the abundance of times he caught Hakyeon more or less staring, though he can’t deny that the thought of him being interested in more than just teaching him is a welcome one. One that almost always manifests as a quick ball of excitement in his gut.

“Namjoonie-hyung learns fast, I told you,” Jimin says, watching Hakyeon rake his fingers through his auburn hair with rapt attention.  _ No wonder booking lessons with him was such a hassle _ , he thinks, once again thanking whatever powerful cosmic entity made the stars align in a way that had the pair who was supposed to be receiving these lessons drop out just in time. Someone with a face and body like this, all lithe muscle and bronze skin and delicate features, is bound to be sought after for more than his skills. Jimin averts his gaze before his thoughts can wander elsewhere, deciding he’s done enough ogling for at least half a year.

As though he sensed Jimin’s thoughts slipping away, Hakyeon says, “One of the fastest learners I’m teaching right now. Just one little thing.” He reaches for Namjoon’s hand, the one that’s still holding onto Jimin’s like a lifeline, and raises it so that it’s hovering in the air a couple of inches above the arch of Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin does his best to not focus on the stray touch of Hakyeon’s fingers against his own. “You should hold it here, not lower. It isn’t  _ that _ big of an issue, but your entire posture suffers a little from it. It doesn’t have to be perfect, of course, considering your mind is probably going to be somewhere else during your wedding, but --”

Namjoon’s phone goes off in the middle of Hakyeon explaining. He excuses himself with a sheepish grin, dimples boring deep into his skin, and walks off with red-tipped ears to answer the call at the other end of the room.

“Probably the fiancee,” Jimin explains to Hakyeon, who tracked Namjoon’s movement like a slightly lost puppy. When he looks back at Jimin, his eyes are wide, eyebrows risen high on his forehead. It’s comical and oddly endearing, almost enough to make Jimin laugh, but he holds back. What he allows himself is a grin, one that crinkles the skin around his eyes. “Who did you think is he marrying?”

Hakyeon looks back over at Namjoon, who has since leaned against a wall with the most lovestruck, dopey smile on his lips. “I thought  _ you _ two are a thing, honestly.”

The ridiculousness of that very thought makes Jimin laugh, after all. Namjoon is attractive in many ways, but Jimin hasn’t once thought of him as more than just a very good, very close friend. He’s family, in the same way the other members of their little gang of dorks are family. He understands, though. Two men taking ballroom dancing lessons for a wedding neither of them have clarified much does have the potential to lead to very quick, very wrong conclusions. Jimin shakes his head. “We’re just really good friends. He needed someone to accompany him, and since I already have a fair share of experience, I thought I might as well volunteer. Makes it a little easier, right? More time to focus on teaching him how it’s done instead of dividing attention between us two.”

“Oh,” says Hakyeon, and this time, his eyes meeting Jimin’s own makes a warm shiver run down his spine. Something has changed in Hakyeon’s gaze from one second to the other, something that makes Jimin feel a little see-through. He doesn’t think he minds it all that much. “So you’re not… ?” Hakyeon gestures in the air, an idle movement of his wrist and his fingers as though that alone is enough to finish his sentence in a way Jimin understands.

“I’m single, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.”

Maybe it’s his imagination playing tricks on him again, that soft, red glow creeping into Hakyeon’s cheeks, peeking through from underneath the smooth expanse of sun-kissed skin. He sounds composed as he speaks, nonchalant, but his voice is laced with a lightness, too. It sounds a little like relief. “Does that mean I can ask you out for dinner? I mean, unless you’re not into --”

“No, I am,” Jimin replies, perhaps a touch too quickly to be considered normal. He clears his throat and averts his gaze to the dance floor, studying the pattern in the wood as though it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “I’m very much into, uh.”  _ You _ , his unhelpful mind supplies. “Men. Dinner would be nice. Great. Lovely.”

He looks back up only to be met with Hakyeon smiling down at him, perfect, white teeth on display. Jimin’s insides melt into pleasant goo. “So I didn’t read too much into things for once, huh.” Hakyeon’s smile widens into a grin. “How about you give me your number after we’re done here? To talk about this more in-depth.”

Jimin nods, mirroring the smile and trying his best not to look too excited.

  
  
  


“Care to explain to me what’s going on over there?”

Hoseok makes an accusing jab at the air, directing Jimin’s attention towards Jeongguk. They’d flown out to Jeju early in the morning, in tow of an excited Yonghwa and a giddy Namjoon. After hunting down locations in Ilsan only to find that all of them were already booked around the time of the wedding, they’d settled on going through the list for Jeju. Luck on their side, they’d managed to schedule an appointment to view this venue just a handful of days later. In need for more opinions, Namjoon more or less kidnapped Jimin, Jeongguk, and Hoseok along with his boyfriend Taekwoon without further ado. Something about having an eye for aesthetics and pretty things, to which Taehyung had loudly proclaimed that he, too, possesses that very ability. But his college classes just so happened to be important, so he surrendered to his fate and proceeded to sulk for the rest of the evening.

“Dunno what you mean?” Jimin says, following Hoseok’s offended gesturing with genuine confusion. Jeongguk is standing a little ways away from them, engaged in a conversation with the very guy who’d been trailing after the manager of the place all day. Aside from their conversation looking rather lively and Jeongguk smiling so hard his bunny teeth are on full display, there’s nothing too suspicious about it. Jimin studies Hoseok’s face, the pinch of his brows. “He’s talking to that assistant guy. No biggie.”

“He’s smiling, Jimin.”

“And that’s a crime now?”

“Ignore him,” says Taekwoon, ruffling through the hair on the back of Hoseok’s head and bumping their hips together. “He’s been having a bit of a crisis.”

Hoseok huffs, mouth turned downwards like a petulant child’s. “It’s not a crisis.”

By way of responding, Taekwoon hums, a soft and idle sound. He ignores Hoseok in favor of addressing Jimin again, which earns him a pinch to the side -- which goes ignored, too. “Namjoon getting married so soon makes him all protective. You should have seen the glare he sent Wonsik the other day after he  _ finally _ dared to give Yoongi his number.”

“My, my,” Jimin retorts, unable to suppress a grin. He presses a hand to his chest. “Are you scared we’ll forget about you once we’ve settled down? You should know better, hyung.”

Hoseok huffs again and says, “That’s not it,” but Jimin can read him well enough to know that this is exactly what’s on his mind. However tempting it is to tell him just that, Jimin has mercy on him. Besides, the knowledge that Hoseok is so worried about potentially losing touch with his friends is kind of sweet. That sort of knowledge you hold close because you know you mean something to someone. He doesn’t have much of a chance to linger on it, though, seeing as how Jeongguk interrupts any and all thought processes by strolling over to them, smile still stuck to his lips.

“What was that?” Hoseok asks immediately, predictable as ever.  _ "Who _ was that?”

Jeongguk blinks at him, puzzled doe eyes and all before he looks down at his cellphone in his hands. “Uhm?” He squints at the display. “His handle’s ‘RedBeans93’. I… didn’t ask for his actual name.” In response to Jimin giggling at him, he hastily adds, “He saw the Widowmaker keychain on my bag, okay? So he chatted me up and we exchanged handles. We’ll play later, probably.”

“Oh god,” Hoseok groans and turns away, dragging Taekwoon with him. “Nerds.”

They overhear Taekwoon responding that Hoseok doesn’t have a right to judge anyone for their level of nerdiness, which is enough to send Jimin into another small fit of giggles.

  


Minutes later, everyone gathers in the small backyard of the venue at Namjoon’s ushering. Yonghwa proclaims it to be where the main event takes place with the biggest, warmest smile on her face. It’s empty at the moment, as to be expected, a simple patch of neatly trimmed grass lined by flowerbeds that have yet to burst with color. Pointing towards the sea, the location makes for quite the beautiful sight, even in winter. Jimin’s takes a lazy, cursory glance around to drink in more of the scenery, the shoreline and the waves crashing against it, wooden stairs leading down to the beach, the tall tree in the back of the yard he assumes to be a cherry tree. In the springtime, it’ll all be even more breathtaking, no doubt about it.

“We’ll have an arch, of course -- we have to,” Yonghwa explains, standing smack dab in the middle of the yard, all eyes on her. “It’ll be a shame if it rains, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, right?” She goes on about decorations, nothing extravagant, a few bows here and there and flowers, lots of flowers. The enthusiasm is contagious. When she tugs Namjoon closer and pulls him into a kiss, it’s not at all difficult to imagine the two of them standing under that very arch she mentioned, hands intertwined and matching rings on their fingers. If Jimin were a little more naive, he’d consider this something straight out of a fairy tale.

But the thing is: weddings are hardly the epitome of love in his opinion. He understands the appeal and he’d be lying if he said the thought of getting married to someone he might consider the love of his life hadn’t crossed his mind. Like all good things, however, marriages come to an end far more often than anyone would like. That being said, Jimin isn’t a cynic by any means. He considers himself a realist, if anything. Tying the knot is somewhere at the bottom of his list of priorities, simply because he doesn’t think it’s all too necessary. Being happy in a relationship isn’t connected to sporting a wedding band around your finger.

Jeongguk interrupts the moment by faux retching, earning himself a smack to the back of the head by none other than Hoseok. Who, now that Jimin takes a closer look, looks a bit glassy-eyed.

All of this unadulterated romance was bound to have an effect on someone else, too, he figures.

  
  
  


Hakyeon insists on picking him up from home, something Taehyung comments with a shit-eating grin and good-natured teasing. “A true gentleman,” he says, pinching Jimin’s cheeks until Jimin swats him away. The excitement from before has since mingled with a heaping of nervousness, coiling somewhere deep in his guts. Aside from seeing Hakyeon during their weekly dancing lessons and the occasional, sporadic text message, Jimin hasn’t had any other interaction with him whatsoever. And their interactions while he teaches him and Namjoon have been minimal at best, too. Not the epitome of personal at that.

“I feel a little like a teenage girl before prom right now,” Jimin says, fussing with the sleeves of his oversized, cream-colored sweater. Casual, Hakyeon had said, and Jimin had complied. Not that he would have minded dolling himself up a little more than just doing a bare minimum, foundation and subtle eyeshadow, skinny jeans and boots. He meets Taehyung’s eyes in the mirror. “You know, like in those movies? Except that I’m not wearing a pretty dress.”

“You think he’d be into that? We can arrange --”

Face a perfect deadpan, Jimin turns, arms akimbo. “Don’t.”

Taehyung rolls a dismissive shrug off his shoulders. “You’d rock a dress, is all.”

“Taehyungie, I don’t even know what kind of  _ music _ the guy likes. I’m not gonna go ask him about this sort of thing on our first date.”

And that’s, maybe, what makes Jimin so nervous. The lack of knowledge about Hakyeon as a person. With a sigh, he plops down on the bed next to Taehyung, leans against him. Most of his exes have been his friends first, some friends of a couple of years. Plenty of room and time to get to know each other, test the waters and see how well everything fits. A part of Jimin also likes how comfortable the transition from good friend to lover is, although he hates the endings, no matter how civil. Going back to being friends is something he never managed to master.

“What’s up, Jimbles?” Taehyung asks, slipping an arm around Jimin’s shoulders the way he knows comforts him. If someone in the world can be considered his soulmate, then it’s Taehyung.

“It’s just.” Jimin deflates. “I haven’t been on this kinda date in forever. What if we don’t have anything to talk about? What if he’s super boring? What if he thinks  _ I’m _ super boring?”

Taehyung snorts. “Right, like that’ll happen.” Instead of continuing with his jesting, he tugs Jimin a little closer until he melts against him and his arms form a loose circle around Taehyung’s waist. “You’ve talked to him before, right? You’re gonna charm the pants off him, I guarantee you.”

“Sure, make me feel more shallow than I already do.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve got the hots for him. So what? Lots of relationships start with mutual thirsting. When I dated Minho, there was so much of that involved. Like, eighty percent thirst. Nothing wrong with that.”

The ringing of the doorbell interrupts their conversation, which Jimin can’t say he’s too mad about. He isn’t particularly keen on spiraling into a mindset that might not be very beneficial for this date, Taehyung’s support and advice aside. He knows himself well enough to know how quickly a negative thought can latch onto him like a leech. Hakyeon’s timing couldn’t be better.

He’s urged out of the room by Taehyung, who tosses him his keys and his jacket and envelops him in the tightest bearhug before practically pushing him through the open door. Jimin stumbles a little, balance lost for a few seconds, but Hakyeon’s reaction comes lightning-fast. His hands are on Jimin’s arms to steady him in an instant, making them avoid a collision just so. What it didn’t prevent was their consequent proximity, chests so close Jimin prays to every god in existence that the little somersault his heart performed goes by unnoticed.

“Careful there,” Hakyeon says through a snicker, though his eyes give away genuine concern. “Everything all right?”

Jimin straightens, still so close to Hakyeon that his breath tickles the tops of his cheeks. “Yeah, sure. Sorry about that.” Hakyeon’s hands are still on his arms, too, a gentle weight. Even through the thickness of his sweater, Jimin feels the warmth of them, raising gooseflesh along his skin. Hakyeon finally seems to notice and draws back with a flustered chuckle and a matching smile, all cute and shy.

“Ah, don’t worry. Glad to know you’re just as eager.”

And, well, nobody can blame Jimin for smiling right back.

  


The place Hakyeon picked turns out to be a neat, if tiny, Italian restaurant. He greets the waiter who asks for their choice of drink and hands them the menus, a tall, blond guy with a long nose and plush lips, by name, informally at that. Jimin notices him grinning down at him like the cat that got the cream before he walks off to take care of their order. Hakyeon apologizes on his behalf the moment he’s out of earshot.

“Jaehwan is a little… let’s say enthusiastic about me and dates. Or dates in general.”

Jimin files that information away for reference, though doesn’t quite know yet what he’d ever do with it. “Not a very date-y person, you?”

“Oh, that’s not it,” Hakyeon replies, words accompanied by a slow shake of his head. “It’s just hard sometimes to find time. Or find someone for said date when I do have time.” He shrugs. “Adulting is fun in many ways but that.” The way he bites his lower lip suggests that there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches for his napkin to unfold it, smoothing out the creases.

“Well,” Jimin says to not let them plummet into silence just yet, “we’re here now, so I’m guessing everything’s going in your favor at the moment?”

On cue, Hakyeon’s entire face lights up, complete with teeth on display and reddened cheeks. Jimin commits that image to memory in an instant. “I’ve gotten pretty lucky, yes.”

It isn’t long after that Jaehwan returns, their beverages on his tray and more than ready to take the rest of their orders. As soon as he’ gone again, Hakyeon explains that they met through Jaehwan’s older brother, who used to be Hakyeon’s classmate in high school. Ever since then, Jaehwan stuck around.

“And what happened to that brother?” Jimin asks, stirs his iced tea with a straw.

“Went to a different college than me and then moved to America because of work. We still keep in touch, but only sporadically. That’s just how that goes.” He takes a sip from his water before he adds, “He got married a few months ago. Which brings us right back to that ever so popular subject of weddings. Funny, huh?”

Jimin hums at that. “People do like getting married when they’re ready to settle down and start a family. Seems pretty common.”

“And you?”

“Me? I’m not married.”

“Duh.” The laugh that escapes Hakyeon sends a tiny shiver down Jimin’s spine. It’s a nice sound, unabashed, carefree. The kind of laugh he expected from him, if he’s honest.

“Not divorced, either.”

“Jimin-ssi!” At this point, Hakyeon is shaking a little in his chair, shoulders trembling from his laughter. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” Jimin cocks a playful eyebrow at him. “For all you know, I could be an unhappily married man who goes around scamming people by sidling up to them and making them take him out on dates, buy him nice things. And then, just when things get serious, poof! Gone with the wind, so to speak.”

“Unfortunate that you picked me this time, though. I’m afraid I don’t make enough money to take you on fancy dates on the regular, let alone shower you with diamonds.”

“We share that fate. Dance instructors don’t swim in cash, sadly.”

Hakyeon falls silent for a moment, visibly processing that new detail. As soon as it clicks, his eyes go wide. “Oh, you’re --?” He runs a hand through his hair, averting his gaze towards his unfolded napkin. “Christ, I should’ve asked this sooner. See, that’s what the lack of dateable people does to me. I’m messing up the order of things.”

Slowly, thinking of whatever Hakyeon does or says as endearing is becoming anything but foreign. Jimin beams at him, allowing himself to bask in the wave of fondness that washes over him, and says in the softest voice he can muster, “We’ve got this whole evening for you to correct that. Isn’t that nice?” 

  
  
  


When Jimin shows up at the dance studio the following week, Hakyeon gives him the most bewildered look -- with good (and obvious) reason.

“Where’s Namjoon-ssi?”

Jimin makes quick work of shedding his jacket and closing the door behind himself. “Got sick. Probably the flu? He should be okay next week, but I don’t know if he’ll be okay enough for this yet.” Small smile on his lips, he approaches Hakyeon, who still looks at him as though he’s grown a second head, albeit with that familiar glint of concern peeking through.

“Oh,” he says, sounding genuinely disappointed for a moment. “That’s a shame. Just a month until the wedding now, right?” He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, but this time, he doesn’t hold back on what he wants to add. “You could’ve called to cancel.”

Something about it rubs Jimin the wrong way. Since their date, there’d been radio silence, and Jimin hasn’t had the guts to break it, in spite of Taehyung’s nagging and Seokjin’s encouraging words. As far as he’s concerned, it went more than well, a good two hours of chatting and laughing and getting to know each other. And now this, that immediate reaction to Namjoon being sick, like there’d be no reason for Jimin to show up on his own. Here he’d thought this might be a nice chance to spend a little more time, doing something they both clearly enjoy.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Jimin’s gaze drops to the floor in cadence to his heart sinking into his stomach. He knows how stupid this is. How stupid  _ he _ is. Right now, he’s standing in front of Hakyeon’s dance teacher persona, a man with little time on his hands, classes stuffed to the brim every day of the week. A canceled lesson or two are a godsend, Jimin relates to that more than he cares to admit. He opens his mouth to speak, to tell Hakyeon he’ll just go home again, but Hakyeon’s hands coming up to rest on his shoulders derails that thought in an instant. Jimin looks up again.

“Don’t apologize. What’s up with that?” Hakyeon’s voice is soft, but he smiles. It’s the same kind of smile he wore when he dropped off Jimin at his and Taehyung’s apartment, the same kind of smile he flashed him when Jimin reached for his hand across the table and squeezed it mid-sentence. “You’re catching me a little off-guard, you know? You’ve got no need for this lesson. I’m not sending you away, though.”

Relief rushes through Jimin and with it comes a blooming warmth in his chest, spreading all the way into his fingertips and toes. He mirrors the smile, places his hands on Hakyeon’s wrists. “I kind of hoped you wouldn’t.”

Hakyeon’s eyes roam down to Jimin’s lips, just for a moment. Against Jimin’s mental urging for him to do whatever crossed his mind, though, he lowers his hands instead, sliding his fingers through the gaps between Jimin’s and whisking him away to the laptop hooked up to the speaker system. The disappointment of it doesn’t last very long.

“How experienced would you say you are?”

Very briefly, Jimin mourns the loss of one of Hakyeon’s hands as he uses it to scroll through an endless list of songs. “I should be okay with anything a level or two above what we’ve been doing so far as long as you lead? I’m not sure.” There’s a more precise answer somewhere in his head, for sure. With Hakyeon’s palm smoothed so nicely against his own, however, concentrating is a little hard. Not to mention that his hand is warm and just the right amount of soft and calloused. Hakyeon hums and picks a song, the beat worming its way into Jimin’s bloodstream. He doesn’t need to ask any more questions.

They find their stance with almost practiced ease. Compared to Namjoon, who’s all long limbs and soft proportions, Hakyeon is a mix of slender muscles and near perfect body tension. The difference, however expected, manages to awe Jimin at first. He falls into step at Hakyeon’s prompting, a Viennese waltz he thankfully remembers well enough from when he was a teenager. Back then, he’d signed himself up for ballroom dancing to broaden his horizon, to become a more well-rounded dancer instead of only focusing on ballet and contemporary dances. It was one of many experiences, but he never thought he’d need it again in depth.

Hakyeon spins him around the room with little to no effort, light on his feet. Jimin matches his every move, lets himself be dipped and lifted off the ground and twirled, melting into figures whenever Hakyeon leads him into one. Every time he catches a glimpse of Hakyeon’s face, his eyes are focused, intense, a stark contrast to his usual, easy-going aura. It would be intimidating if Jimin didn’t know the trance someone can fall into when they dance, that passion-induced fervor. He’s beautiful like this, concentration hardening his edges.

At the end of it all, they’re both a little breathless, but Hakyeon still finds enough breath in his lungs to chuckle, carefree and warm as ever. He breaks their stance in favor of placing a gentle hand against Jimin’s hip and tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear with the other. His smile is what does it, what fuels Jimin into curling his own arms around Hakyeon’s neck to tug him down, down, down until their mouths slot together. It’s natural, like they’ve done this a million times already.

Cupping his cheek, Hakyeon hums into the kiss. Jimin can still sense the smile glued to his lips, though it falls once Hakyeon tugs him closer and presses their chests flush against one another. Hakyeon lets out a noise between a moan and a sigh, robbing him of the last sliver of worry curled up in his chest. Jimin slips his tongue into his mouth, tasting dark coffee and minty mouthwash. The speakers have long started playing another song, a detail that’s completely secondary. The only thing Jimin hears is his own heartbeat in his ears and the little sounds Hakyeon makes, the slick rubbing of their tongues, the occasional rustle of clothes. Jimin slips a hand into Hakyeon’s hair to rake through it, realizing how badly he’d wanted to run his fingers through the silkiness of it. Hakyeon grabs a handful of ass, far gentler than Jimin is used to, and god, it’s almost too much.

Far sooner than Jimin would have liked, Hakyeon pulls back, cheeks a pretty tart-cherry-red. His hands stay right where they are, his eyes an entirely different kind of intense now. He wets his kiss-swollen lips and it takes all of Jimin’s willpower to not lean in again.

“That was… wow,” Hakyeon breathes out, a soft chuckle punctuating his words. He doesn’t clarify whether he meant the dance or the kiss, but doesn’t have to.

Jimin replies with a hum, roaming his hands down to rest them on Hakyeon’s shoulders instead. “Ever the wordsmith, hyung.” His response earns him another breathless snicker.

They fall silent in unison, the way they formed a perfect unit on the dancefloor. Eventually, Hakyeon touches his forehead to Jimin’s, eyes slipping shut, and the atmosphere changes. Where there was fire before, there’s now a simmering warmth, comforting. If he focuses on it intently, Jimin thinks he can feel Hakyeon’s heart beating against his ribcage. It’s even more comforting to know that his pounds as fervently as Jimin’s own.

Once again, Hakyeon breaks the silence, though it’s welcomed. “You’ve danced ballet before, right? Are you still interested in that?”

The question comes a little out of blue. It takes Jimin a moment to muster an answer beyond a simple nod. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’ve got these tickets,” comes Hakyeon’s reply, “for a performance next weekend. I thought… maybe you’d like to go. With me.”

Jimin doesn’t need to think twice to say yes.

  
  
  


“Only  _ you _ would try to bang your dance teacher,” says Jeongguk around a french fry, one eyebrow raised pointedly at Jimin. They’d met up at a diner not too far from Jeongguk’s campus, Taehyung joining them spontaneously. Of course, it didn’t take long until their conversation shifted towards Hakyeon, with Taehyung’s suggestive grins and offhanded comments. There goes Jimin’s intention to keep whatever he and Hakyeon have going on a bit of a secret for a while from the lot of them.

Rolling his eyes, he lets out a groan. “I’m not trying to bang him.” Jeongguk deadpans at him, and Jimin relents. “Okay, maybe I am, but that’s not my only goal.” Sure, Hakyeon is attractive, and sure, Jimin can very much imagine what it would be like to get physical with him. Above all else, however, he wants to learn what kind of person he is beyond what he’s already seen. What he’s like when he’s sad or when he’s grumpy or when he complains about work like a disgruntled child in need of cheering up. Jimin wants to curl up under a couple of blankets with him, watching a shitty action flick and feeding each other strawberries.

_ This baby crush is getting out of hand. _

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Jeongguk’s voice, edged with cheek. “Aiming for marriage?”

As tempted as Jimin is to throw the rest of his own fries right into Jeongguk’s face, just to wipe that devilish grin from his lips, he doesn’t. He payed good money for them and they’re delicious, which are two very good reasons to not waste them on a brat like him. Without much heat, he tells him, “You’re annoying sometimes.”

“A pleasure.” Jeongguk mimics a curtsy, to which Taehyung lets out a hearty belly-laugh. It’s times like these that make Jimin question why he’s friends with either of them.

“I just -- I think I kind of like him? We’re going out to see a ballet on Saturday evening. Who knows.”

“As long as you don’t flip out like Hoseokie-hyung,” Taehyung says as soon as he catches his breath. “According to my sources, he’s getting more and more emotional the closer Namjoonie-hyung’s wedding gets.” He sips on his milkshake. “Speaking of which, how’s he holding up? Haven’t heard from the guy himself since the fever made him pass out during Mario Kart last week.”

Jimin shrugs. Aside from the occasional update Yonghwa sends all of them in their group chat, he hasn’t actually heard much about Namjoon, either. He isn’t worried, or at least only a touch so, knowing that Namjoon’s fiancee knows what she’s doing. After five years of dating, a simple flu isn’t much of a feat anymore. “Noona probably chained him to the bed so he doesn’t get stupid ideas. I’m guessing it’s not the sort of bondage he signed up for when they started dating.”

Jeongguk and Taehyung snort in unison. “So typical of him to get sick now,” says Jeongguk, finishing his fries and immediately reaching for Taehyung’s leftovers. “Makes me wonder if he’s doing it on purpose.”

“How do you get sick on purpose?” says Taehyung, switching his plate with Jeongguk’s to make it easier for him. “Last time I checked, that’s not something you can make happen just because.”

Jeongguk shrugs. “Bean says it’s possible. Don’t ask me.”

On cue, Jimin shares a look with Taehyung. Neither of them say a thing for a few beats, simply watch Jeongguk devour the leftover fries after drowning them in ketchup, before they both lean in at the same time.

“Bean?” Jimin asks, curiosity piqued. The name rings a bell, but it’s nothing palpable. Jeongguk doesn’t have a habit of making new friends without them already being a friend of a friend, so every mention of someone outside the reach of their circle raises immediate suspicion. In the good-natured, brotherly way, but suspicion nonetheless. Jeongguk looks up from his feast and nearly chokes on a fry.

“Wait. Is this the Overwatch dude from Jeju?” Taehyung leans in even closer, and Jeongguk swats at his cheek half-heartedly. “Oh my, it is!”

“Shut up, okay,” Jeongguk retorts, still in the middle of downing his own milkshake. When Taehyung laughs at him, he gives him the most non-intimidating glare Jimin has ever seen. “Am I not allowed to talk to people now?”

Shoving the last piece of his burger into his mouth, Jimin responds in Taehyung’s stead, “It’s just weird, y’know? D’you talk much?”

In lieu of giving an answer, Jeongguk occupies himself with his fries again. Pussyfooting around like he prefers to do when someone prompts him to open up. It’s not that he’s emotionally constipated, but the talking about it is what seems to be too big of a hurdle sometimes. What he probably doesn’t realize is that it doesn’t make it easier, not for himself and not for anyone else involved. Jimin heaves a sigh, reaching out for a napkin to wipe his mouth with. “You don’t gotta tal --”

“He’s nice,” Jeongguk blurts out, and blushes the color of a ripe tomato. “Pretty good player, too. And he’s… I dunno, it’s easy to tell him stuff? Yeah.” He ducks his head, avoiding both Taehyung and Jimin’s eyes. “He’s only an intern at the place, like, the manager woman? She’s his aunt and offered him that internship. We’re gonna go to the arcade this weekend, or whatever.”

Taehyung lets out an impressed whistle. “Doesn’t sound like ‘or whatever’ to me, to be honest. Sounds more like an actual date with an actual person.” He presses his palms together as though in prayer, eyes roaming skywards. “God bless Overwatch.”

Jeongguk flicks a half-eaten, ketchup-soaked french fry at him, and after Jimin bursts into laughter at the sulky pout forming on Taehyung’s stained face, he and Jeongguk join in, too.

  
  
  


The last time Jimin watched a ballet, it was thanks to his former dance teacher organizing a visit for the entire class. Back then, his interest for it had been slim at best. He was a lot more eager to dance himself than watch other people do so, even though he found himself fascinated rather quickly by the sheer overdose of talent. A little intimidated, but fascinated.

It’s different now, almost ten years later. Ballet has long become a fond memory, not something he actively pursues anymore. To revisit what used to be a vital part of his daily life at some point brings him a wave of nostalgia, edged with melancholy. Had he not stopped dancing ballet in favor of picking up hip-hop and focusing more on contemporary, he might be the one on stage now. The one donning tights and extravagant costumes, awing the masses. It’s not quite regret that settles in Jimin’s chest. Just something that tastes like longing, like missed opportunities.

“Is everything all right?” Hakyeon whispers by Jimin’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

Jimin turns his head just enough to send Hakyeon a small, genuine smile. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to space out.”

He feels rather than sees Hakyeon lean closer, the sparse light around them not nearly enough to illuminate more than the contours of his face. Even so, he can spot a smile on his lips, so soft it makes his heart do an embarrassing backflip in his chest.

“Something on your mind?”

Jimin opens his mouth to speak, but doesn’t. Instead, he averts his gaze back towards the dancers on stage. The star-crossed lovers intertwine, hands reaching for one another in silent yearning before they gracefully split apart, anguish on their puppet-like faces. When Jimin finally speaks, he does it with a wistful smile. “That could’ve been me. It’s been a while since I watched this sort of thing, and it kinda hit me all at once. Weird, isn’t it? How you sometimes can’t stop yourself from wondering what life would be like if you didn’t make that one decision.”

Next to him, Hakyeon shifts in his seat. “Do you think you’d like doing this better?”

“No.” Jimin surprises himself with the abruptness of his response. But even as he gives it another thought, he comes to the conclusion that he wouldn’t want to trade his current life for anything in the world. He’s content, working alongside Hoseok, surrounded by a group of friends so dear to his heart. Choosing a different path might have turned him into a different person altogether. In all honesty, Jimin likes himself the way he is now well enough.

Hakyeon doesn’t respond. Even without looking back at him, Jimin can feel his eyes lingering for a few moments longer, and he knows he’s still smiling, too. When he moves his hand to grasp Jimin’s, he lets him, upturning his palm so their fingers can slot together.

“Hey,” says Hakyeon after a handful of minutes more. His breath is warm as it ghosts against Jimin’s jaw, just like it was against his ear, and this time, the shiver that follows in its wake spreads through his entire body with a tingling kind of numbness. “Do you want to come back to my place once we’re done here? I don’t think I want the evening to end so soon.”

“We’ve got two hours until it ends,” Jimin quips, but god, the suggestion is a hard one to say no to.

Someone annoyed with their whispering, at least judging from the sharp sound of it, shushes them, and all Jimin and Hakyeon do before falling silent is giggle under their breaths.

  


“It’s not that I regret it, you know?” Jimin explains, sitting on Hakyeon’s couch, hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. It’s navy blue and big and has kitty paws printed all around it. “Ballet was great while I was super immersed in it, but I wanted to move on. Do something more --”

“Relevant? Modern?” Hakyeon tries to supply, sinking down on the cushion next to Jimin.

“I’m not sure if I’d call it that. Ballet is like, the predecessor of everything else, sort of? I wouldn’t wanna be disrespectful.”

Sagely, Hakyeon nods. “Wise words, wise words.”

“And teaching is great, more than great. Not that I have to tell you that. I like where I am right now.” A moment of quiet passes, room for Jimin to contemplate and take a sip from his beverage. It’s rich and sweet, hints of vanilla and cinnamon spreading on his tongue. “I guess I got a little nostalgic there, back at the theater. Happens to the best.”

Jimin chances a glance at Hakyeon, who, as he so often does, sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. Usually, Jimin lets it slide, but for a reason he can’t quite pinpoint, he can’t bring himself to do so now. He sets his mug away onto the little coffee table an arm’s length away before he reaches up to tap a finger against Hakyeon’s upper lip. Immediately, he stops biting the bottom one and laughs.

“What’s that for?”

“You keep doing that,” Jimin tells him, tilts his head to the side in mild wonder. “Care to tell me what’s on your mind? I’ve done too much talking all evening.”

Hakyeon shakes his head immediately. Inching closer, close enough to have their thighs touching, he takes hold of Jimin’s hand to press a kiss to the side of his palm. “I like it when you talk.”

It’s borderline corny, but oh, so sweet. Jimin is horribly biased, skewed in his perceptions and weak to Hakyeon’s affections, yet can’t find it in his heart to actually mind. He complains, regardless, albeit in the weakest of ways, telling Hakyeon he’s ridiculous. Hakyeon only smiles, presses a few more kisses along the side of Jimin’s palm and slowly makes his way to his knuckles, lips brushing over every single one. When he meets Jimin’s gaze again, his smile falters just a touch.

“I still owe you an apology.” He doesn’t let Jimin ask for clarification, silencing him again with another shake of his head. “After our first date, I kind of… I guess I got cold feet. I started thinking about how doing this with one of my students, of all people, might be crossing a line I shouldn’t cross.” He lowers his and Jimin’s hands into his lap to twine them together, his gaze following suit. “So I didn’t message you after, even though I wanted to. That was awful of me. I’m sorry.”

Jimin furrows his brows. He didn’t forget, of course, but since that first date, so much else has happened. His cheeks heat up at the thought of their kiss during Jimin’s impromptu solo lesson and the following daily conversations via KakaoTalk. He’d figured that short bit of radio silence had had something to do with hesitation, maybe reluctance, maybe worries. But not once has the thought of being just a silver resentful for it crossed his mind. He reaches out his free hand to hook his fingers underneath Hakyeon’s chin, tipping it up gently. “I was too chickenshit to message you after, too, so don’t take that blame all by yourself. I’m over it.”

“But it  _ did _ hurt you.”

“Hurt’s pretty subjective. It might’ve stung a little, sure. I thought the date was great and all, but then I gave it a second thought and realized you probably had a reason.” Jimin’s thumb flicks out, stroking a slow line along Hakyeon’s jaw, back and forth. “Cold feet how, hm? Don’t tell me you’re allergic to possible commitment.”

Hakyeon lets out a laugh, the sheepish kind. “We’re talking commitment already? After the second date?”

In response, Jimin shrugs. He kind of wants to mention Hakyeon bringing up marriage during their first date, but keeps the thought to himself. “I just like to know where I stand with someone, is all. Besides… “ He leans closer, his hand slipping down to the column of Hakyeon’s neck. Jimin doesn’t miss the way Hakyeon’s breath hitches at the touch, stuck in his throat for a few seconds. “It’s not like we’ve only known each other since yesterday. It’s been a few weeks.”

“Mhhm,” Hakyeon hums in retort. He hesitates, just briefly, before he rests his unoccupied hand on Jimin’s waist, squeezing lightly. “The wedding’s in two weeks. Our last lesson next week. Not that you ever needed those.”

It’s Jimin who laughs this time. The sound comes out low and raspy. “A shame. I enjoyed having you teach me stuff I already knew.”

Hakyeon’s mouth is on his in the very next second. He kisses with as much fire as he did when they first kissed, but something is different. The slide of his lips against Jimin’s has a deeper quality to it, as though he’d needed this conversation to let go, to let loose. Jimin lets out a soft moan on purpose, meant to encourage, and it works. Hakyeon tilts his head to deepen the kiss, tongue flicking out to trace the seam between Jimin’s top and bottom lip. All too eager, it slips into Jimin’s mouth as soon as he allows it to.

Whatever has changed in Hakyeon licks like fire at Jimin’s nerves, setting them alight. He soon finds himself in Hakyeon’s lap, knees digging into the cushion on either side of his hips as he straddles them. Coming back to his place didn’t mean this was bound to happen, yet minding this is not on Jimin’s agenda. He curls his arms around Hakyeon’s neck, fingers diving into his hair to card through it slowly. When Hakyeon’s hands both find their way to his ass, Jimin can’t suppress a snicker, more than pleased with the firm squeeze that follows. Pressing against his crotch, he can feel Hakyeon hardening in his slacks, little by little, and Jimin obeys his own urge to grind down. Hakyeon draws back from their kiss with a low moan, eyes glazed over.

“Jimin, are you -- is this okay?” he pants out, hip stuttering at Jimin grinding down again.

It’s sweet, how he asks for permission. Appreciated, too. Jimin lets him know with a softer, more tender kiss, and the way Hakyeon practically melts into the backrest, tension seeping out of his bones, is a more than clear sign that he understands. Tilting his head and dipping it down, Jimin presses his lips to the pulse point on Hakyeon’s neck, listening to his breath hitching like it did before. He peppers the whole expanse of smooth skin in kisses, dragging his mouth up and down and letting his teeth scrape against it here and there until Hakyeon grips his hips firmly and bucks his hips up, over and over again. It momentarily makes Jimin’s head swim with pleasure, jeans too tight and friction delicious but not enough. He dives back in for a kiss that’s more tongue than lips, hungry, fervent.

When he breaks it again, he takes a good, long look at Hakyeon, whose cheeks are flushed, eyes hooded. Jimin revels in the sight, in the knowledge that he’s the reason for him looking so blissed out already. He rocks his hips against Hakyeon’s again, drawing out a string of low, throaty moans, ones he echoes with breathy ones of his own. “I wanna,” he presses out, hands running down the front of Hakyeon’s shirt, “I wanna suck you off. Have your cock in my mouth.”

Hakyeon groans at that, shivering visibly. “God, please, yes. Jimin.”

He says his name with so much want that Jimin’s cock twitches in his pants. Whatever rational thoughts were left in him at this point slip through his fingers like fine sand. He doesn’t waste any time to climb out of Hakyeon’s lap and kneel down on the floor, fingers massaging Hakyeon’s thighs through his slacks. Hakyeon’s hands shake as they lower to undo the fastening of his pants, so Jimin replaces them with his own just in time to finish the job. Slipping his fingers underneath the waistband of Hakyeon’s boxers, Jimin peels them back, tickling the soft skin around his groin. It earns him a sharp inhale and yet another shiver, and as much as he wants to tease a little more, he deems it fairer not to.

“You’re so hard,” Jimin coos as he tucks the boxers’ fabric in underneath Hakyeon’s ballsac, one hand immediately wrapping around his shaft. The tip of his cock is gorgeously swollen, angry red from arousal, and when Jimin presses his thumb into the slit, a bead of precum oozes out, wetting his skin. Hakyeon whimpers above him, spreads his legs further for Jimin to nestle in between them more comfortably, even though the hardwood flooring makes it difficult. He can ignore that for now, subjected to Hakyeon being boneless and at his mercy.

“Please, Jimin.”

Without them having done much, Hakyeon sounds wrecked. Sensitive, too. Jimin lingers on the thought even as he leans in to press his tongue flat against the head of Hakyeon’s cock, swirling it all the way around it. Someone like him could surely have just about anyone if he asked. It doesn’t make much sense to have him falling apart so easily, however much pride it fills Jimin’s chest with. He tilts his head to trace the prominent vein with the tip of his tongue, down to the balls and back up again. Suckling on the head, he watches Hakyeon lean his head back, jaw slack and eyes closed. He reaches out to tangle a hand in Jimin’s hair while the other rests on his thigh, curled into a loose fist. Maybe Jimin was wrong about him.

With a moan of his own, Jimin takes Hakyeon’s cock into his mouth, sinking down as far as he can without gagging before pulling up until only the tip weighs down heavy on his tongue. He repeats it once, twice, three times, Hakyeon’s fingers tugging at his hair. As quickly as it happened, however, his grip disappears completely. Jimin meets his eyes from underneath his lashes, spotting a hint of an apology in the midst of all the haze. Sinking his mouth down on Hakyeon’s cock again, he reaches out to guide his fingers back into his hair, and eventually builds up a slow rhythm of bobbing his head.

It doesn’t take long until Hakyeon’s breath quickens, more precum leaking out of his cock and sliding down Jimin’s throat. He relishes in it, the bitterness and the heady tang. By now, he has curled his free hand around the base, squeezing and stroking in cadence with his mouth. Hakyeon’s fingers tug again, hard enough this time to hurt in the way Jimin likes. He presses his legs together for friction, painfully hard, himself, but he resists the urge to grind against the edge of the couch or touch himself through his jeans.

Hakyeon comes with Jimin’s name on his lips, voice husky and low. It catches both of them off-guard, so much so that Jimin almost chokes as the first spurt of cum hits the back of his throat, but he swallows as much as he can while working Hakyeon through his orgasm. Thighs trembling, Hakyeon bends forward, shoulders tense as he spills into Jimin’s mouth, his cock twitching on his tongue.

“God, I’m so sorry,” he presses out, breath still coming out in short, quick pants. He looks guilty, a hint of frantic, petting Jimin’s hair and pulling his cock out of his mouth when the oversensitivity seems to get too much. Jimin shakes his head, bringing a thumb up to his lips to wipe the leaked out cum from the corners of his mouth.

“It’s okay. Don’t fuss so much.”

He tucks Hakyeon’s cock back into his boxers with the utmost care and heaves himself up onto the couch again, licking his lips. Hakyeon still looks blissed out, bottom lip looking a little raw from when he must have bitten it during all of this, chest heaving with the effort to regulate his breathing. In spite of it, he doesn’t hesitate to tug Jimin closer again, kissing him hard on the mouth. “You’re too much,” he whispers against it, touching his forehead to Jimin’s with a fatigued sigh.

“I heard a rumor.”

Jimin fully intends to give Hakyeon more time to recover, but to his surprise, he pulls him back into his lap, manhandling him in the most hesitant way to make him straddle one of his thighs. Even through his arousal, Jimin is ever so endeared, basking in the warmth blooming in his gut that’s so different to the heat already coiling in it. He cups Hakyeon’s face again to kiss him, slow but needy, and Hakyeon seems to get the hint. His hands run down Jimin’s sides, graze the waistband of his jeans, and as soon as Jimin sits himself down on Hakyeon’s upper thigh, his hands are working on undoing button and zipper. His touch is gentle, too, when he pulls out Jimin’s cock, but it still makes Jimin moan into their kiss, overwhelmed in the best sense of the word.

Drawing back, Jimin breathes out, “You don’t have to be so careful. I’m not gonna break, hyung.”

Hakyeon swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I know,” he insists, giving Jimin’s cock a few experimental tugs, thumb sweeping over the head. Jimin doesn’t care much for holding back, bucks his hips into the contact. “I want to do this right. Sorry.”

Jimin groans, both in pleasure and mild exasperation. “You need to stop saying sorry so much, I -- god,  _ yes _ .”

His thoughts escape him once again, Hakyeon’s thumb digging into the slit on top of the head of his cock just right. He dips forward to circle his arms around Hakyeon, resting his forehead against his shoulder while rolling his hips in time with Hakyeon’s fingers stroking him slowly. If he were a little more coherent, he would have come to the conclusion that Hakyeon’s hesitancy doesn’t exist only because of him wanting to not do anything wrong. But Jimin is too far gone, too lost in how good those long, slender fingers feel around him.

Hakyeon finds a dizzying rhythm soon. No shame whatsoever, Jimin tips his head back, moaning encouragements and praise he himself likes to hear. Hakyeon kisses down his neck, sucks on the skin hard enough to redden it, and as much as Jimin wants to tell him again that he doesn’t have to be careful, he lets him do as he pleases. Tight knots form in his belly, hot with pleasure and just about ready to burst.

“Hyung, I’m close,” Jimin pants out, fucking up into Hakyeon’s fist again, and from one second to the other, he finds himself bent backwards, back against the cushions and Hakyeon’s mouth around the head of his cock. It’s all he needs to be tipped over the edge, coming with a loud, broken moan. He squirms and trembles in place, wave after wave of bliss crashing down on him. Hakyeon gives a suckle at the tip of his cock, oversensitive by now. Jimin lets him know with a whine and he pulls away, smiling that apologetic smile of his after pressing a tiny kiss to Jimin’s hipbone.

“Was that -- was that okay?” he asks as he moves to first fasten Jimin’s pants again before helping him to stretch out his legs. Making quick work of fastening his own pants, as well, he settles down behind Jimin, arms coiling around him and lips brushing over his sweat-damp temple.

It’s now that Jimin has an inkling, a slight realization. Turning in Hakyeon’s hold to face him, he gives him a questioning look, brows pinched just slightly. “You don’t do this often, do you? With guys?”

Head ducking in what Jimin can only interpret as embarrassment, Hakyeon hums to confirm. “I’ve been with… a few, but it’s not… “ He pauses, seemingly searching for the right way to word his response. “I’m not so comfortable with this yet.”

Jimin understands, of course he does. There was a time when he tried to pretend men held no appeal for him, too, a time where he was in fierce denial. Looking back on it now, he can’t believe the younger version of himself was so scared -- though he still remembers why. Still remembers the rumors, and the bullying, and the stares when an upperclassman had the guts to ask him out and they walked the hallways hand in hand, not as friends but boyfriends. Not knowing Hakyeon is still struggling, even just a bit, makes guilt wash over him. He’d seen the signs but chalked them up to nervousness, not insecurity. Hakyeon presents himself with so much dignity, after all, so much healthy self-assuredness. Assuming he’s so sure about any and all aspects that make him who he is is such an easy thing to do, yet shamefully ignorant at the same time.

He sighs, so soft that it’s almost inaudible. There’s an apology poised behind his lips, ready to slip into the open, but Jimin deems it smarter not to let it. Nudging their noses together, he searches for Hakyeon’s eyes, and tells him in earnest, “Hyung, it’s fine. I get it, I really do. I wouldn’t have minded taking this slower.”

“No, that’s not --” Hakyeon says, cheeks flushing red at his own impulsive answer. Regardless, he holds Jimin’s gaze. “I wanted this. Exactly the way it went. You’re… I really like you, Jimin. So much.”

It takes him aback, that confession, but more than that, it sends his heart right back into overdrive, melting around the edges. He doesn’t respond, instead moves to kiss Hakyeon, soft and slow and tender, a stark contrast to their previous kisses that couldn’t be any more perfect. He tastes the remnants of his own cum on Hakyeon’s tongue, which makes him draw away for a few seconds to chuckle out, “You’re a real trooper, Cha Hakyeon,” before he kisses him again, lets their tongues rub together and their legs tangle.

  
  
  


The wedding venue is nothing short of beautiful.

Jimin’s admittedly a little floored by the sheer amount of elegance. He knows Yonghwa and her excellent taste, the fervor with which she must have made sure the decorations are perfect. A part of him feels a little sorry for the staff who’d had to work under her constant scrutiny, but the effort shows.

They’d decked the venue out in cream colors, from the tablecloths to the napkins to the bows fastened to the backs of the chairs. To give it all that genuine feeling of spring, flowers were woven into just about everything, a sea of soft pinks and oranges and greens. The patio doors to the backyard are wide open, the same cream-colored bows hanging from the door handles, and even from the entrance, Jimin can see the lovely wedding arch right next to the blooming cherry tree, white wood with intricate carvings.

“Wow,” Hakyeon says next to him, voicing the exact thought that’s been circulating in Jimin’s head ever since they arrived. He looks dashing in his suit, custom-tailored to fit him just right. A waiter passes them, offering flutes of champagne, and Hakyeon takes two with a grateful nod and a little grin he directs at Jimin a second after. “They really went all out, huh?”

Jimin laughs, fingers reaching for the flute. “I told you, noona likes it pretty.”

After their very last dancing lesson, Jimin had proposed the idea of Hakyeon being his plus one for the wedding, which, to nobody’s surprise, had been the greatest source of delight to Namjoon. He’d known, of course, about Jimin and Hakyeon, despite them not having made anything official yet. They still haven’t, but it’s fine the way it is. Jimin everything but minds waiting until Hakyeon feels a hundred percent comfortable taking their relationship to that next level -- to being boyfriends. Until then, he’s more than happy to continue getting to know each other inside and out. Hakyeon is worth that.

“How high are the chances of you crying once things get going?” One brow arched, Hakyeon takes a sip from his champagne, though it does nothing to hide his grin. Jimin elbows him gently in the side.

“You’re awful. I want a divorce.”

“At least wait until after the wedding.”

“I’ll think about it. No guarantee, though.”

Jimin is the first to laugh, and Hakyeon joins in with a quiet cackle of his own after watching him scrunch his face up.

They stay rooted in place for a few moments longer, right until Jeongguk joins them, looking a little more disheveled than Jimin remembers him from earlier when they arrived. He squints at him, the subtle flush of his cheeks, but doesn’t comment. Whatever he’s been up to, he’ll know of it soon enough, anyhow.

Jeongguk clears his throat, a touch awkward, eyes everywhere but on Jimin and Hakyeon. “We should, uh, find Namjoon-hyung, I’m thinking. He’s probably a wreck right now.”

And well, that sounds accurate. Jimin nods, emptying his flute and waiting for Hakyeon to do the same before he curls an arm around the crook of Hakyeon’s elbow. They hand their emptied glasses to another passing waiter, ready to follow after Jeongguk and make sure Namjoon’s inevitable breakdown in his dressing room doesn’t end in a catastrophe.

Everything feels utterly perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> i blame a certain someone on twitter for this. this is what happens when you enable me.  
> i'm ridiculously attached to this AU now, rip.  
> am i possibly already planning a jeongguk/hongbin thing based on it? yes  
> am i possibly considering a hoseok/taekwoon thing based on it? also yes
> 
> kudos/comments are very appreciated, as always ♥
> 
> come say hi on [twt!](http://twitter.com/cloverseoks)


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